Remember
by Pureauthor
Summary: But just in case,' she whispered. 'I'll remember too.' Oneshot Windshipping


Remember

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I've wanted to write this story for… I dunno, it feels like forever.

And at long last, it has been written. Let's roll, people.

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Disclaimer: I own naught, naught, naught. Woe is I.

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When it had happened, it had been so gradual, so _insignificant_, that one could have easily dismissed it out of hand. And so of course, they had done just that.

One morning, they had arranged to meet at the entrance of New Vale, for purposes of making the short journey to Vault. After arriving there several minutes early, Sheba had then proceeded to wait nearly thirty minutes for Ivan to appear. Frustrated, she had finally gone over to his house to see what the delay was all about.

She had found him in his home, eyes closed as he leaned back in a chair, resting. There was no indication at all that he had intended to even leave the house, much less travel all the way to Vault.

"Ivan!" She snapped. Startled, the younger Jupiter Adept jerked upright in his seat, glancing about wildly before he noticed her.

"Oh, hi, Sheba. What brings you here?" He had said with a friendly smile that mainly served to get her all the more irritated.

"Oh, nothing much." She replied snarkily. "Just the fact that we agreed to meet at the entrance of New Vale half an hour ago. Remember?"

Ivan frowned. "No – no, I don't recall us saying anything of that sort. Are you sure about this, Sheba?"

She ground her teeth. "Ivan, _you_ were the one who arranged this thing in the first place!" She sighed, passing a hand over her forehead. "Forget it." She muttered. Before Ivan could utter another word, she turned and strode from the house.

* * *

They had quickly patched over that tiny issue, but Sheba couldn't help noticing that Ivan seemed to be behaving… well, behaving oddly.

Like the time she had found him searching frantically for his cloak in his room. As she had entered, he had been in the process of opening up his wardrobe and shoving the musty shirts aside, stopping only when Sheba had tactfully reminded him that he had lent it to her a week ago. He'd grinned sheepishly, rubbed his head, and stopped the search.

And the time she had found him utterly confused about the name of the Djinn that happened to be tagging along with him. To most, one Djinni of a particular element were indistinguishable to another, but after having spent so long with them on the field, the Adepts had learnt to tell them apart with but a glance. Except for Ivan, apparently.

"Gust?"

"No, Squall."

"Oh, right. If _you're_ Squall, then you must be Luff."

"Ugh. I'm not even the same _gender_ as Luff! Did our names just fall out of your head, Ivan?"

For a while she'd chuckled and shook her head, ribbing him about 'getting old before his time'. Ivan took it in characteristic good humour, although she knew he was silently pondering this matter. Jupiter Adepts were known for their strong mental ability, and he probably didn't feel very keen on admitting he was losing it.

Then, one day, while she and Mia were near the Sanctum picking herbs, Ivan walked up, staff in hand.

"Hey, Sheba!" He called. She glanced up and smiled.

"Hey, Ivan. Fancy seeing you here."

"The weather was so nice I felt I'd waste it if I didn't take a walk." He grinned in reply. "The strength of the breeze… the coolness of the air…" Then he looked over, noticing Mia. "Oh, hello."

Distracted, Mia only smiled in reply, her attention focused on dislodging a stubborn root from the ground.

Ivan turned back to Sheba. "So, who's your friend? We haven't met before, have we?"

_That_ got Mia's attention. Both girls stared, nonplussed, at Ivan, who gazed back uncertainly at the sudden change in expression.

Finally convinced that, no, Ivan was _not_ kidding, Sheba shook her head and replied. "Ivan, this is Mia. Our friend."

Ivan stared at Mia, frowning slightly. Then recognition dawned and his eyes widened, before he winced.

"Oh, Mia – oh, man, I'm – I, wow, how could I – I mean, sorry, I just…"

"It's alright." She chuckled. But despite the easy air that Mia carried herself with, Sheba had only to glance into the Mercury Adept's eyes to know that her friend was as worried as herself.

* * *

It wasn't long before Sheba decided to take matters into her own hands. She knew Ivan – like she knew most males, anyway. They just didn't like asking for help. _Why_ that was so was an utter mystery to her, but she could leave that for another time.

Approaching his house, she softly opened the door and made her way inside. Ivan never seemed to mind whether or not Sheba announced her presence by knocking beforehand – and she had never before caught him in any embarrassing situations regardless of whether she barged in or not – and the act of entering on her own had become second nature to her by now.

As she entered the sitting room, she cracked a smile as she saw Ivan, utterly engrossed in – what else? - a thick tome detailing the origins of Alchemy and the Elements. The smile quickly faded as she reminded herself why she was here.

"Ivan…" She broke the silence softly. Gust, at his master's side, glanced up towards her. Ivan placed a hand on the page he was reading and shifted his hand slightly to face her.

"Ivan… I think… I think it's time we tried to find you some help." Sheba sighed, her gaze moving away from his face to her hands, which she realized she was now wringing nervously. "I know you don't want to hear this, but your recent lapses in memory… It's not _normal_. I mean, you couldn't even remember Mia!" Sheba paused for a moment to rein herself in, then continued. "We may be Jupiter Adepts, but we still don't know enough. I think… I think it would be best if we asked for Master Hama's help. Don't you agree?"

"Ivan…" The soft, whimsical way he said his name made Sheba glance up. His head was cocked to one side, his eyes staring into nothingness.

"Ivan…" He repeated. "Is that… Is that my name?"

* * *

Hama's frowned deepened as she probed Ivan's mind, trying to source out whatever it was that afflicted his memory. The youth sat as still as he could, eyes darting nervously back and forth every once in a while.

Sheba and Isaac stood by the side, she wishing desperately she could walk up to Ivan and offer him some manner of comfort, he with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall with head bowed, silent as the grave.

Finally, the violet aura surrounding the both of them dispersed, and Hama straightened up from her kneeling position. Ivan pulled away slightly, rubbing a finger along his neckline.

"So?" Sheba asked anxiously. "What's going on?"

Hama pursed her lips and shook her head. "It's like… nothing I've ever seen. I don't even know how to describe it properly." She closed her eyes, evidently trying to figure out how best to sort things out. "It's like something is just… burning away at his memories. It'll start out slowly, and he can reclaim them quickly enough at first. But as it goes on, it'll become harder and harder to reclaim them, until… it's gone forever."

The colour drained from Sheba's face, and she involuntary stepped backwards, one hand finding its way to her mouth. This couldn't…

Isaac, though, was sharper. He'd caught sight of an expression on Hama's face that spoke of so much more than what she was currently telling them. Closing his eyes and steeling himself, he spoke again. "What else?"

Hama started, then quickly composed herself. "So you could tell…" Turning to her younger brother, she placed a comforting arm on his shoulder. "Ivan… whatever it is that's eating at your memories… it won't stop at just that. It'll continue ravaging your mind – and in the end, it-" Her voice broke, and she had struggle to complete the sentence. "It will claim your life."

Ivan's mouth opened and closed soundlessly. There was tense moment of silence, and then Hama leaned over and embraced him tightly.

"Be strong, brother." She whispered to him. "Be strong."

* * *

Ivan was silent throughout the duration of their journey back. Isaac, seemingly wise enough to know he could offer nothing of comfort to Ivan, kept to the front, guiding the mare that pulled their carriage.

Within, Sheba sat, silent, next to Ivan, desperately wishing she could offer him comfort but not having the slightest idea how to. He was pale and drawn, staring listlessly out of the window.

Maybe she should just talk to him about it. Whatever it was keeping everything scrunched up inside couldn't be helping him…

"Ivan-"

"It's not the dying that scares me, you know." He suddenly blurted out tremulously. 'I mean, on our journey, we – we fought so many battles against impossible odds I just… I just forgot how to be scared of death." He swallowed hard and continued, "I… it's just that – all my memories… I won't be able to – I won't know what anything is. I won't know _who_ anyone is. Even you. I'll just be a… a shell." He finally finished in a broken voice.

Instinctively, Sheba drew him into a hug. Ivan didn't resist, burying his head into her shoulder, his body shaking with his weeping.

"It's okay, Ivan. It's okay." The words tumbled out of her mouth, her not even knowing what she was saying. "I'll take care of you, Ivan. I'll look after you. Don't worry. It'll be okay."

* * *

For as long as Ivan was still able, he journeyed out into the surrounding lands, wanting to experience the beauty of the world one last time – even if he would no longer remember it.

And always, Sheba would journey out with him, remaining at his side, talking, laughing, and sharing jokes with him. And as when, more often than not, he forgot something, she would gently coax it back into the recesses of his memory, reminding him of who he once was.

Still, time took its toll on him. Eventually his mind became too addled to properly move around, and for his own sake, he was forced to be confined to his house, and if possible, his bed. Still, when she visited, she often saw him wandering about the house in a dazed manner, his Djinn fluttering behind and frantically trying to return him to his place of rest.

Then, slowly, she began to notice him getting weaker physically. Hama had been right after all – not content with consuming his memories, whatever strange malady that afflicted him had progressed to the rest of his being as well. Finally, he remained in bed – not because he remembered that he was supposed to, but because he was too weak to do otherwise.

The others did what they could to help, but it was Sheba who unflinchingly bore the brunt of the work necessary to take care of Ivan, and to ensure his comfort. She did so without the least hint of complaint or weariness, although many times after she had quietly closed the door to his house for the night, those standing nearby would note that her face was streaked with fresh tears.

Perhaps most hurtful, in her own estimation, were the times when she entered his house, only to be confronted by a bewildered stare and a harsh question, "Who are you?!" Patience, patience and soft words were often necessary to calm him down, to draw him back into the present, where she was a dear friend to him.

Once, after coaxing his memories out seemed to take far longer and require more effort than usual, she slumped down onto a chair, exhausted, letting the tears flow silently.

Suddenly, she heard a cough, and saw Ivan stumbling out of the bed, heading towards her.

Instinctively she started to rise, but Ivan waved her back. "I'm still strong enough to walk a meter or so, thank you." He laughed, but it was hollow.

He settled himself onto a chair opposite her, coughing again and gazing down at the table surface for a long while.

Finally, he shook his head and began to speak, "Sheba… I don't think you should come anymore."

"Wha-"

"Hear me out." He coughed once, and continued. "Sheba… I can see it, you know. The pain in your eyes, you seeing me like this. You try to hide it, but…" His mouth quirked into the semblance of a smile. "You're not very good at it."

"You're saying I should just abandon you?" She could feel outrage simmering within her at that very thought.

"No. Just send someone without so much of a personal attachment to look after me." Ivan ran a hand through his hair. "Sheba… pretty soon, all the pain and hurt you feel – I won't be able to help you with them. I won't be able to _understand_ them. I'll just be… I'll just be empty. Where I once was, there'll just be ashes."

She shook her head, not wanting to accept. "Ivan, I know what you're saying, but I… I can't just…" Her voice lapsed into silence, and she squeezed her eyes shut, wiping angrily at the tears.

Then she felt strong arms embrace her. "Oh, Sheba, Sheba. You tried to stay strong, and all for my sake. You worked so very hard…"

_He's the one dying of some strange memory-eating disease, and he needs to comfort me._

Even as he held her close, Ivan continued to speak softly. "Sheba… soon… I'll pass on. And from beyond – from eternity – I will be free once more, my mind will be my own again. The life I lived, the times I cherished… they will return to me. And at long last when you come to join me in the heavens…" He pulled away, reaching up to brush her cheek softly.

"I'll remember. I'll remember what you did for me. I'll remember the times we spent together, the laughter, the tears." The smile grew deeper, more introspective. "I'll remember joy again, Sheba. And I'll remember love."

Closing her eyes, Sheba once again drew Ivan close, holding him close and feeling the warmth of his body.

* * *

It was a cold drizzly day. Strangely appropriate, Sheba thought blithely as she stood over Ivan's grave.

In one hand was clutched a bunch of violets. Isaac had been to see her before she'd set out; he'd placed a blessing on the delicate flowers, one that would allow them to survive, even thrive, when placntd in a place such as this.

"Hey, Ivan." She smiled, a smile that carried with it deep aches, a hurt time could not fully remedy.

And yet it carried hope and promise too – the promise that Ivan was now at peace.

"I kept my promise." She said. "To myself, I mean. I didn't abandon you – even when you were lost to the world." Her voice grew softer. "Even when you were lost to me."

She'd gone faithfully, day after day, to look over him, even when his ravaged mind was incapable of dredging up the faintest hint of recognition in his eyes. She fed him, looked to the house, kept him clean and comfortable.

She'd sat by his side, taking his hand and whispering comforting words into the late night, as he had moaned and shuddered, and finally lain still – at peace.

She gazed up at the heavens, stretching out to forever. "I guess you're up there, remembering." She closed her eyes, nodded. "Well, good for you."

Then she glanced back to the cold grave, and as she stooped to place the flowers on the wet earth, one hand went to her chest. "But just in case," She said softly. "I'll remember, too."

And unseen by her, Ivan smiled.

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Thanks for reading, please review. 


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